Never Give A Death Eater Firewhisky
by Unhappy Squirrel
Summary: The Title Says It All [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

Never give a Death Eater Firewhisky

A/N: Don't own Harry Potter, ONESHOT, make that a two shot, and by the way, most of this first part is written by the Unhappy Squirrel's older sister, the Manically Depressed Robot

"Is he dead?"

"I dunno; let's poke him with a stick."

"Sure. Anybody got a stick?"

"I DO!"

ZAP! Voldemort woke with a start as the wand collided with his rear end. He twitched slightly as his henchmen came into view. He then realized then that he was in a bar surrounded by drunken Death Eaters. They stood around him and stared stupidly down at him.

_WTF?_ was the first thought that crossed his mind, which was beginning to ache with dehydration and alcohol saturation. "What the hell?" he mumbled aloud.

"Oh my God! It's alive!" was what Lucius Malfoy responded with.

"What the hell are you doing poking me in my backside?!? And why the hell are you drunk and not attempting to murder that Potter brat's friends?"

"Well, ah, sir, we, ah, we were out at this really nice bar and uh the drinks were free and uhhhhhhhhhh..."

"I can see that you are at a nice bar! Where the hell do you think we are at, the soup kitchen? And anyway the drinks aren't free, you just put it on my tab, you miserable failure at life!"

"You shouldn't talk that way to my husband!" a thin whinny voice came out of a back corner.

"Oh Narcissa, is that you? I thought you were the bars local whore. I think I want my money back." Voldemort was really starting to feel the hangover now.

"Oi, you pathetic attempt at life, don't you even start to talk to my wife like that!"

"I will talk to my followers however I like! Anyway, she is the only one here who is not smashed or hung-over! How do you explain that? She was completely sober when I paid her!"

Lucius looked ready to respond with another drunken insult, but Voldemort was ready this time. He performed this neat little spell that removed all the alcohol from one's bloodstream, but the side effect was that the person peed their pants. A dark stream appeared along the inside of Malfoy's pant line.

"What...huh? Why are my pants wet, my God my head hurts, why does it smell like urine, where am I, good Lord it's you, and boy do you look pissed." All of this tumbled out of Malfoy's mouth in one rush.

"You were drunk, little smelly toad, and you were about to back talk me. I fixed your problem. Now pick up this tab and shut up."

Why was Voldemort feeling the hangover now? And why weren't the Death Eaters passed out like he was? Something was not right; he could usually drink everybody under the table, even the Irish. What was Malfoy's reaction to the tab? Will this explain why Voldemort got smashed so easily? Will somebody finish this page and stop all of my questions? Find out in part two.

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Another one of those pesky A/N: This is the Manically Depressed Robot writing most of this, and this is my first time at writing a fanfic. Part Two will not be written by me. Please tell me what you think of this part. Thank you for taking time out of the miserable existence that you lead to read my waste of your time. And yes, I know it's short.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

A/N: Well, um, heh, I get to write all this stuff about why Voldemort was hung over. Lucky me...I don't own Harry Potter or the Lollipop song either, unlucky me. This is now the ONE AND ONLY Unhappy Squirrel!

Voldemort groaned. He had been out cold for two days straight. That was a lot of Firewhisky. Great, just great, he had to be the laughingstock of the Wizarding world about now. Not that he cared, obviously, he was going to crush them like a cricket under steel toed hiking boots, anyway.

His reputation was shot and so were his New Years Resolutions. He had been sitting there, when Narcissa walked up to him, ordering bottle after bottle until he had hacked up the money. She did as much as he paid her and left him back in the bar.

Two days later, his Death Eaters had decided to attack that same bar. They had woken him up and escorted him back to his home sweet home, or for everyone else, home sour home.

He still lived in the manor once occupied by his good for nothing dad, but there were a few things Voldemort had changed. The entire house was black, surrounded by poison ivy, thorny roses, and Venus flytraps. The lawn was perfectly done, no weeds anywhere, only gravestones of his rebelling Death Eaters.

Taking two days off to recuperate and get over the large alcohol induced headache. Nobody came to visit him and he decided to heat some tea, wrap himself up, and read how-to books on torture by the fire, when a small knock came.

Although, he really didn't want to get up from his comfortable position, the knocked became more profound, setting off the small headache. Pulling himself up, he opened the door.

Death Eaters were standing on the porch as Avery smiled. Being the one who knocked, he was in the front. The man edged slightly backwards, and blended into the crowd.

They were going to drown their sorrows again. It was clear, too clear. "No!" Voldemort said, slamming the door. The thunk it made, crashing into place, set his headache to a full-blown migraine.

The knocking began again, and three Death Eaters burst through the door, dragging their emo leader out with them.

And off to the bar they went.

Malfoy was storming about in rage. "WHAT!? I DIDN'T ORDER THESE DRINKS! THIS ISN'T MY TAB!!"

"Umm, sir, your name is at the top," the bartender said meekly. He pointed to the name, Lucius Malfoy, before crawling into a corner.

Voldemort was dumped unceremoniously into a chair at the back of the bar. Avery walked up to the bartender helping him to his feet. The man stared incredulously at the Death Eater.

Avery smiled and said, "I'm only nice to people who get me alcohol." The man bowed his head in immediate understanding. A bottle of Firewhisky was placed in the Death Eater's hand two seconds later.

---

Three Hours Later

---

"SWING YOUR PARTNER ROUND AND ROUND,

LEFT RIGHT HOEDOWN!"

With the word hoedown, empty bottles were thrown into the air, and people cheered.

Avery continued his poetry:

"Bottles of Firewhisky were thrust into the air,

And Lucius Malfoy was chased by a bear,

And poor Voldy sat all alone,

Wishing he could be at home,

But of course we wouldn't let him,

His patience with us was getting thin,

He sat in corner all moody and mad,

His temper was waning just a tad,

I should stop while I'm still alive,

Or my death will next be connived."

Voldemort's temper was indeed wearing thin, his patience was leaving, and Avery wasn't helping. Malfoy was holding a pack of meat to his eye as three Healers were looking over his cuts and bruises.

_That's what you get for playing chicken with a bear,_ Voldemort thought mockingly.

---

Three MORE Hours Later

---

The Death Eaters were dancing to... THE LOLLIPOP SONG! Voldemort hated that song with a deep and fiery passion. It was evil...so evil. It made him want to curl up into a ball and croak.

"LOLLIPOP, LOLLIPOP, OO LALALALOLLIPOP, pop"

Lucius was singing along in a high-pitched voice. Voldemort couldn't take it anymore. He whipped out his wand a cried, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The entire bar stopped and turned around. Harry, Ron, and Hermione got off their stools in the center of the bar and walked up to the Death Eaters who had lined up to receive something called a reward.

"That was too easy," Hermione said.

"But it was funny," Harry muttered back.

Ron started passing out twenty-pound notes to the Voldemort followers. When he reached Lucius, he pulled out a ten-pound note. "Good job, but that lollipop thing was just too creepy mate."

Lucius rolled his eyes and grabbed the bill. After all the Death Eaters had left, Harry looked over at Voldemort's table. The evil man had committed suicide, who knew?

A/N: Finally done, after my sister shouted at me to get _on_ my butt and type it. Review, too, please. Please?


End file.
